


Acquired Taste: Bonus Chapters

by plumtrees



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Crossdressing, Crying, Emotional Constipation, Feels, Heartbreak, Host Clubs, Kissing, M/M, Post-Winter Cup, School Festivals, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even when it seems like a happy ending, there are always people in the background, suffering in silence.</p><p>Bonus chapters to my HayaMiya fic Acquired Taste. Reading it is not absolutely necessary, but the basic premise might be missed if you don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Side Akashi and Midorima

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voices_in_my_head](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voices_in_my_head/gifts).



> The bonus two sides to the story that I didn't want to write because one will inevitably end painfully.
> 
> Let's just say there is a REASON WHY I DIDN'T FILE THIS UNDER THE LIGHT-HEARTED SERIES

"The color doesn't suit you at all."

Midorima huffs and continues on ahead without Akashi, zori clacking noisily as he goes. "I will be sure to forward your complaints to the management."

"Keep that attitude up and I just might return you before you can get the chance to seduce me into making you my wife." 

Midorima can't see him but he hears the teasing lilt in his words well enough. He turns and crosses his arms, causing the kimono's sleeves to swish around him, softening the severity of the gesture and making it more playful and elegant.

"I thought you rescued me from a life of slavery because I was your childhood friend?"

"Oh, was that the kind of story we were going for?"

Midorima allows himself a hint of a smile. Akashi's lips twitch into a smile that stays.

He allows Akashi to catch up the rest of the way. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to do?"

Akashi looks around the relative chaos of the Shuutoku grounds, littered with different booths and stalls for the cultural festival. In the end, he shrugs, apparently failing to find something worth his attention. "Maybe we could just talk?"

Midorima blinks. "Very well. Though you didn't have to take me out of the gym to do that, at least there we had chairs."

Mountains of pillows and futons to be exact, but hey.

Akashi shakes his head. "It wasn't really the atmosphere I was going for. Unless you wish to sit down? I understand how difficult it must be to walk in zori." Akashi automatically offers his arm again, how he would to ladies in ridiculously high heels in his father's parties. Anyone else and Midorima would've turned his nose up and walked on, proving himself perfectly capable of walking on his own two feet, uncomfortable shoes be damned.

As it is, Midorima simply loops finely manicured fingers at the crook of Akashi's elbow. Touching Akashi was a luxury he hasn't indulged in in a long time.

Midorima leads them to a more remote location, on the other side of campus where the paths are pebbled and full of trees. They wander in silence for a while, and Midorima realizes that his hand is still tucked into Akashi's elbow when Akashi taps his fingers gently to get his attention. He looks down and Akashi makes a 'come here' gesture, curling the fingers of his hand inward. More out of habit than anything, Midorima bends until he's eye-level with Akashi.

He nearly flinches back when Akashi's fingers card through his hair.

"You cut it."

"The fringe was becoming bothersome." Midorima explains. His body is no longer accustomed to Akashi's more intimate touches, and the trembling is more from unease than arousal.

"You style it differently now." Akashi's deft fingers were now readjusting his kanzashi to hold his hair back better. Midorima hunches his shoulders slightly when it exposes more of his forehead.

"I just felt like it."

"I like it," Midorima's eyes flit towards Akashi's smile. "If only because it makes it easier to do this." and that is all the warning Midorima receives before Akashi inches closer and kisses him on the forehead.

And there it is, the easy charm that seems to roll off Akashi in waves. He's seen girls faint for _much_ less than this, and he thinks, a long time ago, he probably wouldn't have fared any better.

Now, he just stumbles back, nearly tripping—stupid zori, stupid kimono, stupid Akashi, stupid, stupid, _stupid_ —and Akashi reaches forward to steady him but he brings up his hands. A flimsy barrier, but Akashi stops all the same.

"Don't." Midorima says, but it comes out in a breathless wheeze. His chest is tight. "Don't do this."

_Not when I was finally beginning to get over you. Not when I finally found a place here, without you._

Akashi's arms have dropped, Midorima finds himself grasping at empty air. He lowers his hands and clenches them tight at his sides.

"I understand."

Midorima's head jerks up. Akashi is staring at him, his face betraying nothing. It is a strangely familiar expression to Midorima, one he has learned to hate.

"I won't be bitter about it. We can still carry on as friends." Akashi continues, toneless. "Unless you don't want to continue on as friends, I would understand that too."

"Stop," Midorima grinds out quickly, feeling a familiar rage twist in his gut, "shoving words in my mouth!"

Akashi flinches sharply, like he's been punched.

"You are the most self-absorbed little brat ever! Stop acting you know how everyone thinks!"

Akashi looks like he's about to apologize, but he wants to apologize for all the wrong reasons and it's not what Midorima wants.

"I loved you." Midorima shouts, cutting off whatever Akashi meant to say. "Or I still do, I don't know. But you don't get to do this. You don't get to waltz in here and sweep me off my feet like the last three years was nothing!"

Midorima's fingers are digging into the silk of the kimono. The sounds around them are muted by the throbbing, echoing beats in his chest.

"I could understand the walls you built. I understand putting them up against your father, our teammates, Nijimura-san," Midorima continues, feeling his throat clog up with each word, "but to look at you one day and realize that the same wall you put up for everyone else was staring back at me." Midorima pauses, takes a breath, because the phantom pain is spreading across his chest and he can't find the words to describe how much it _hurt_ , how much it still does. 

"I don't know, maybe I'm overestimating how important I am to you but I at least expected a little _more_ than that."

He's breathing heavily now, and Akashi's looking at the ground, expression invisible.

"No, you're right." Akashi says, softly. "You were my biggest weakness, Midorima. And at that time I couldn't afford to have weaknesses."

The words are heavy, laden with everything they've been through, and Midorima doesn't know how to respond.

"I couldn't afford to fall apart, not after Nijimura-san entrusted his life's ambition to me, not after my father's demands started piling up."

"So you tossed me aside like you did everyone else."

Akashi shakes his head, a futile denial. "I didn't know what to do. I guess I just," his hands open and close at his sides, as if he could physically grasp the words to fix this, "ran away."

Midorima's shoulders sag. "We could have talked. You could have trusted me enough to understand, Akashi, because I did. I was just waiting for you to open up to me again."

Akashi's lips twist into an ironic smile, like it was a solution he hadn't thought of until now. "I was never very good at talking about feelings."

"Takao once told me you were emotionally constipated."

Akashi laughs, short and hesitant, but it was genuine. "I think I still am."

Midorima smiles, concentrating on a point above Akashi's head, considering, "Will you really be okay with it, if I ask you to not be my friend anymore?"

Akashi's eyes dart up to meet his, then lower back to the ground. "Honestly, no."

Midorima lets the silence stretch. Cruel, he knows, but after everything, he feels that he's entitled to a little bit of fun.

"Then you have a lot of making up to do," he says, finally, and Akashi's face breaks into relief. It is subtle—the crease of his brow, the pinching of his eyes at the corners, the clench of his jaw—but it is enough to finally get Midorima's chest to loosen, warmth filling the spaces that used to feel cold and empty.

"Would dinner tomorrow at my house be a good start?"

Midorima meets his eyes and walks closer, stopping a few paces in front of Akashi. He pulls off his glasses and Akashi stares, confused but there is a flicker of hope in his eyes and Midorima realizes that neither of them have forgotten the little things, little quirks and behavioral patterns and nervous tics between them that said more than words ever did. Akashi tilts his head back unconsciously and Midorima leans down to meet him.

The last time they did this, Akashi was 158 centimeters, Midorima was 174. Now, Midorima's in zori about 5 centimeters high and the height difference bends him at the waist. He surges forward a little too fast and his nose bumps against Akashi's. It's throbbing but Akashi secures his head in place with a well-placed hand before he can even think of pulling away. His neck is angled in awkward way but he can't be bothered to care because his world has been reduced to the soft curves of Akashi's lips, firm and insistent against his. For a while he forgets to breathe, because it hits him full force how much he's really missed this. Missed _Akashi_.

"You're not the only one," Midorima whispers against the meager space between their lips, when Akashi finally pulls away. He brings up a hand to cradle his cheek to keep him from going too far.

"Not what?"

Midorima chews his lip, no he doesn't think he can say _emotionally constipated_ again with a straight face, not with how giddy he's feeling, so he quickly improvises. "Bad at talking about feelings."

"Good to know," is all Akashi says, and swoops in to kiss him again.


	2. Side Mibuchi and Takao

"Staring at those doors won't make Midorima-kun and Sei-chan come back any sooner, you know."

Takao jumps in his seat like a child that's been scolded for not paying attention in class.

"Sei-chan doesn't like crowded places," Mibuchi continues, after sparing a smile at Takao's embarrassment, "the chances of him coming back are fairly low. And you should know as well as I do that the only reason he chose to participate in this was because he and Midorima-kun have a lot to talk about right now."

Takao raises an eyebrow and curls his lips in what he hopes is a flirtatious smile. He flutters his own eyelashes at Mibuchi as he lifts the teapot in offering, though his attempt was a sad mockery due to the lack of thick, luscious lashes. "Well in that case, why did _you_ pick me, Mibuchi-san?"

Mibuchi daintily sets his cup down on his saucer, perfectly poised and looking for all the world like the finest gentleman. "Misery loves company?"

Takao blinks, taken aback. He had mentally prepared himself for some teasing, even innuendos, but Mibuchi's eyes are oddly serious. "I don't—"

"Sweetheart, you don't fool me." Mibuchi cuts off, gaze dragging over Takao's face, and he feels uneasy for completely different reason now. "Looking at you is like looking in a mirror."

Takao opens his mouth, mentally groping for a retort, but the gym doors creak open and Takao's head turns at the sound for the tenth time in half as many minutes, only to be disappointed yet again.

He sighs, fixes his skewed headband, dutifully turns to his customer with a smile, and Mibuchi's words are easily forgotten.

-

It's been five hours since Akashi and Midorima left the gym, and Takao's phone is oddly silent. No _Save me, he's a psycho_ or _Why did I agree to this?_. Takao wonders if maybe Akashi's taken Midorima's phone or incapacitated him in some way, but before his imagination could run too rampant, Mibuchi's thrilled shrieks pull him back to reality.

"Fireworks? You never said anything about fireworks!" Mibuchi squeals, and Takao jumps when Mibuchi grabs onto his wrist and drags him to join the crowd gathering outside.

"You're not seriously going to make me go out in this outfit?" Takao protests, but Mibuchi just _winks_ at him and proceeds to do just that.

-

Mibuchi manages to get them to a pretty good viewing spot, despite the huge crowd. Takao chalks it up to the advantages of being tall and pretty, and just focuses on dodging classmates, friends and possible blackmailers along the way.

It was always so easy to catch sight of Midorima in a crowd, even without using the Hawk Eye, and Takao immediately perks up at the sight of green hair atop broad shoulders. He's about to wave, but MIbuchi grabs a hold of his wrist and tugs it back down.

"Takao-kun, haven't you learned never to interrupt when two people are on a date?"

Takao turns to him, eyes wide and suddenly finding himself unable to breathe. His Hawk Eye activates and zeroes into the space between Akashi's and Midorima's bodies and finds their linked hands tucked tightly between them, hidden from most prying eyes.

Suddenly, everything Mibuchi said makes _sense_.

Suddenly, his world shatters.

-

He should be happy for Midorima. He tries to but can't ignore the way his stomach twists at the sight of Midorima's unguarded, content smile. He's been jumping through hoops just for a glimpse of that smile, while Akashi Seijuurou can get it just by looking at him.

He tries to make a joke, because that's what he's supposed to do. Blow it all over with a laugh like Midorima isn't everything he's ever wanted, like he's just this little high school crush that he can forget after an ice cream and romcom binge.

But nothing comes to him. No wisecrack could make this better.

Above, the sky is alight with sparks, and everyone's stares are directed upwards, but Takao's eyes are magnetized to the bright beacons of colored hair. No, no, no he can't watch this but he can't look away, and he sees the affectionate look on Midorima's face as he turns to face Akashi, the exact moment that Midorima's lips come into contact with Akashi's.

Takao thinks he hears his heart breaking, but it is lost in the boom of colored fire.

-

Later, he hangs up the maid uniform and goes through _goodnight_ s and _goodbye_ s and _good work_ s. Mibuchi is waiting for him just outside the gym and they leave together. They walk in silence, and Takao thinks that's a good thing, because he has no energy to maintain a conversation nor to process anything being said to him.

Much later, his phone is going crazy, and he dimly remembers that he's supposed to walk Midorima home tonight. He drags his phone up to his face painfully slowly—it's much heavier than he remembers it being—and stares at the double digit missed calls and texts, all from Midorima. His phone lights up again—another call.

Maybe just a few hours ago, he would've been pleased at Midorima's attention, but know his heart breaks even more with every buzz of his phone and eventually he just rips the battery out and shoves them into the deepest part of his bag.

He cries harder than he did when they lost at the Winter Cup, because he just lost a battle he didn't even want to acknowledge he was fighting, a battle he was probably always meant to lose.

Mibuchi's fingers in his hair are a paltry comfort. Takao wonders why Mibuchi isn't falling apart like he is, then thinks with some envy, that maybe he's already come to terms with this a long time ago. He wonders if he is just that blind or if Mibuchi is just that sharp. Maybe it is both.

 _How do you do it?_ he wants to ask, _play basketball and spend so much time with Akashi without looking like you're falling apart at the seams?_ He can't imagine going on as normal now, because everytime he pictures Midorima, he pictures Akashi and the kiss backlit by a night sky filled with fireworks, and the pain hits him full force and it hurts even more each time.

"Some people might call it a consolation prize, but I'm happy staying as Sei-chan's friend," Mibuchi says, and Takao can't detect any bitterness in his tone, no patronizing or sugarcoating, "because I understand that still I'm important to him, and that's more than enough."

Takao grits his teeth and clenches his fists tight in Mibuchi's shirt. "I don't want to be important, I want him to love me." and any other time he would have been horrified at his own words, wouldn't even recognize the man slumped in Mibuchi Reo's arms, but now, he is angry. It makes him cry harder, makes his chest constrict painfully and makes breaths come up even shorter.

Mibuchi's fingers withdraw and Takao hears the smile in his voice when he responds. "It's always funny how people put romantic love on such a high pedestal, like it's the penultimate kind of love you can achieve with a person."

Mibuchi's hands return, but this time there is a layer of cloth coming down to his face, gently wiping away the mess of tears and snot before Takao could protest. "Midorima loves you, it may not be the kind of love you wanted, but that doesn't mean it's worth any less. He trusted you enough to be his partner, at a time where putting his trust in anyone was probably the most difficult thing he could manage to do."

There is a part of him that wants to ignore Mibuchi's words. _If it's not the love I want then what the fuck do I need it for?_ it says, yells, shouts, over and over. For the whole year that Akashi did _nothing_ for Midorima but cause him grief, Takao was always there, fucking running around hunting for lucky items and pedaling the stupid rickshaw.

For a time, that part of him reigns dominant, and Mibuchi does nothing as Takao slaps his hands away and screams and cries and curses at the injustice of it all.

-

"Call me a hopeless romantic or a martyr," Mibuchi begins, chasing away the suffocating silence that follows when Takao has no more tears to cry, or a voice to scream with, "but everything I ever did for Sei-chan, I did because I loved him, because I wanted him to be happy. When you love someone, you never think to ask for anything in return."

He is slumped forward, forehead resting against the heels of his palms. When the protests deep within him are finally silenced and tired, he thinks he understands.

Confronting Midorima with "look at all the things I did for you, why won't you love me back" would just be sad and pathetic. The thought of it makes his stomach churn. Midorima doesn't owe him anything. And admitting that he did all those things for Midorima just because he hoped that doing so would result in his feelings being returned only makes him a selfish asshole.

Because having his love reciprocated was never the point, wasn't it? All those things he did because the twinkle in Midorima's eyes made the hassle all worth it; the rare smile he reserves for when Takao proudly refers to himself as Shin-chan's partner were enough to make him feel like he was on top of the world, fills him with happiness so overwhelming he thought he'd explode.

But coming to terms with it still doesn't make the pain go away, still doesn't make the idea of Akashi and Midorima being happily in love any easier to process. He clenches a hand on the spot above his heart, wishing he could just rip it out and throw it away, wishing for anything to make it stop hurting.

"What do I do?" Takao says, and winces at the hoarseness of his own voice.

"Take some time off, if you need to. I'm sure he'll understand if you explain." Mibuchi's hands are pulling him up from the stone bench, and he follows limply. "You've focused too much on prioritizing someone else's happiness that you've forgotten that yours is just as, if not more, important."

Mibuchi walks him home despite the late hour, and Takao crosses their front porch when Mibuchi calls out, one last time.

"You're in high school," he says, and Takao wants to jump in with a _so are you_ but Mibuchi has the eyes of someone who's been through so much— _too_ much. Takao wonders why he ever thought that Mibuchi was a shallow person. "Just because it feels like the end of the world, doesn't mean it is."

-

He is lying in his bed and fiddling with his phone. It hadn't rung since he opened it, and most likely Midorima is already asleep, but he can't help the way his fingers drift along the keypad then the call button, Midorima's picture filling the screen.

He picks up at the third ring, "Takao," the voice is relieved, but it quickly morphs into irritation "Where _were_ you?"

Takao smiles nervously, forgetting for a moment that Midorima can't see. "Sorry, my phone was on silent mode, must've run out of battery while I was on my way home. What's up? You called me like 20 times or something."

There is a pause on the other end. Midorima doesn't even jump to correct his exaggeration. "Are you alright? You sound..."

Takao's throat tightens at the genuine concern laced in Midorima's voice, and it makes it all the more harder to keep lying. "Caught a cold, good thing it's the break, right?"

He laughs, hoarse sounding, and punctuates it with a cough that he doesn't have to fake. Midorima click his tongue. "Stop being so careless." he scolds, but it doesn't have Midorima's usual bite.

"Shin-chan were you calling me earlier just to lecture me?" Takao prompts, because he's tired and he doesn't know how long he can keep this up without unraveling completely.

Midorima pauses, considering. "There was something I want to tell you, but I think it's something I have to say in person." Takao grunts, prepares an excuse so he can be spared from seeing him, but Midorima cuts through his thoughts. "It's okay, it can wait. Just focus on recovering from your cold first."

He swallows the lump in his throat, relieved. "Okay, Shin-chan. I'll call you as soon as I'm feeling better alright? 'Night."

"Goodnight, Takao." And when there's nothing but beeps from the other end, Takao realizes that it's the first time Midorima had said goodnight back, instead of just hanging up the phone after a noncommittal grunt. For a fraction of a second, Takao's heart picks up and soars straight out of his chest. In the next, it shatters, because he realizes that this is the best he'll ever get and it is _far_ from enough, but it would have to be.

He closes his eyes and tries to convince himself that it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was heavily inspired by "Lantana" by OLDCODEX, (the lead singer is Takao's VA too and huhu sad Takao gives me the fucking FEELS man) it played endlessly until I finally finished this.
> 
> (Nee-san!Reo gives me life)


End file.
